


Yule Enjoy Yourself

by TheGoodDoctor



Series: Group Targets [7]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 02:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8232494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoodDoctor/pseuds/TheGoodDoctor
Summary: "Come to the Yule Ball with me?"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not even sorry for the pun. Not even a bit.

“Sometimes I really hate Flitwick,” Bill says conversationally, dropping his things with a thud onto the table and slumping in the spare seat.

“That's not very Hufflepuff of you,” Q says absently, not looking up from his work.

Bill huffs. “You haven't seen the work he's just set us. Horrible.”

The Ravenclaw tilts his head. “Can't be all bad, surely.”

Gareth, largely hidden by piles of books and paper, appears around a bookshelf. “You've not seen it, then. Almost a metre on the usage of Levitation spells by the Goblins in Gringotts.”

“A metre?” Eve says as she slides into a seat, followed by James. “You metric hipster shit, that's…”

“39 and a bit inches,” Q supplies helpfully.

James whistles. “Damn. I might have to do that at least a day in advance.”

“But your night-before-the-deadline modus operandi has brought you nothing but joy up to this point,” Gareth says mildly. He tugs his Slytherin scarf a little tighter around his neck, before flailing wildly in an effort to stop the sliding papers. James makes a little space and Gareth deposits the stack gingerly.

“Maybe I'm trying to impress you all,” he says, leaning back on two legs of his chair, arms behind his head and looking significantly at Q.

“All four legs, Gryffindor,” Q says, push in his glasses back up his nose. “That _might_ impress a five-year-old, I suppose.”

Eve shakes her head in resignation. “Come to the Yule Ball with me, Q,” James persists.

“No, Bond. I have no interest in watching sweaty, dancing teenagers for several hours.”

“You could always try _being_ a sweaty, dancing teenager,” Bill suggests. Q glares at him. “All right, fine, stay in bed and play World of Warcraft or whatever it is you nerds do for fun.”

James, Eve and Q stare at him. “I have no idea what that is,” Q says.

“Which is very much for the best,” Gareth says. “Chess is bad enough.”

“Come on, Q,” James pleads. “I'm not asking you to marry me or anythi-”

“Good,” Q says, snapping his book shut. “No need to embarrass yourself further. Excuse me, I have a lesson.” Primly he collects his things and leaves the library very quickly.

James sighs and slumps on the table. Eve pats him on the head lightly and opens her books on his back.

* * *

“Hey! Q!” James calls, barging through the packed corridor after the other boy. Bill and Eve exchange looks and chase after him.

“Hmm?” Q says, looking up.

James slows, panting. “Come to the ball with me,” he says.

Q’s eyes turn to steel. “ _No._ ”

“But-!” Eve and Bill grab him by the biceps on either side and frogmarch him away.

* * *

“He's so irritating!” Q seethes.

Gareth turns the page of his book. “You could always try going with him.”

Q turns to him in shocked betrayal. “I will throw you out. This is my common room.”

Gareth holds up a finger. “You can't, actually. I figured out an acceptable answer to the riddle before you.”

“Yes; what makes a raven like a writing desk? Both are part of a famous riddle.” Q sends him a withering look. “It was a stupid answer.”

Gareth looks inordinately proud of himself. “And it worked. Who's stupid now, me or the door?”

* * *

“Why won't he love me?” James moans, lying on the rug in front of the roaring fire.

“Because you're inherently unlovable,” his fellow Gryffindor says casually, setting her feet on his stomach.

“Seriously, Eve, help me,” James says.

She sighs. “It's because he doesn't want to admit it. He thinks it's a weakness.”

James swallows and his adam’s apple bobs, silhouetted against the golden firelight. “Huh,” he says. “How do I combat this?”

“I don't know. Be romantic, I suppose.” James looks sidelong at her and she shrugs. “It's a start.”

* * *

Q has a rose dropped on him at breakfast by one of the school owls. He blushes and hides it in his robes; it will end up pressed and in his trunk, but no-one need know that.

* * *

It's Q’s favourite pudding for a whole week. The others are getting tired of jam rolypoly pudding, but Q is secretly delighted.

“What are you so happy about?” Bill says, finally.

Q shrugs. “What's _he_ so happy about?” he says, pointing to Gareth.

Bill smiles resignedly. “He thinks the house elves are bribable. Prepare for the Great Yorkshire Pudding Incident, famed throughout Hogwarts’ history.”

* * *

James finds himself stopped by a hand on his arm. He turns to see Q, a smile rising unbidden to his lips despite the apocalyptic fury present on Q’s face. “Hey Q.”

“What's this, exactly?” Q says, shaking a piece of parchment at him. James recognises his own handwriting and fights a blush.

He shrugs, faux-casual. “Aren’t you the Ravenclaw here? You tell me.”

“It's a poem,” Q hisses. “And you wrote it!”

“If you have so many answers,” James says calmly, “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

“I want you to explain why you did it! And why it's a sonnet that isn't in iambic pentameter!”

“Oh,” James says in realisation. “That's what Bill said.”

“Bill helped you?” Q says, surprised.

“Not really,” James says, folding his arms. “He told me the structure of it, but I think the look on my face made him give up on the i-am-thingy.”

Q blinks, then finds the trail of his argument again. “But why did you do it?”

“Because I want you to come to the Yule Ball with me.”

“And you thought substandard poetry was the way to go?” Q says slowly.

“I thought that the pudding would clinch it, honestly. Eve suggested I be romantic.”

Q thinks about this. “Right,” he says, still holding the paper.

James sighs. “I'll take it away if it's so offensive,” he says, reaching out to take the parchment.

Q snatches his hand away reflexively, and looks guiltily at James. “I'll see you later,” he mutters, and scurries off.

* * *

“I never asked, Eve; who are you going to the ball with?” James says, as he flies past.

Eve catches the quaffle easily and lobs it over James to another Chaser. James swings his bat lazily and deflects a bludger. “Bill, Gareth and I are going as friends. Seemed easiest,” she says, smiling.

James nods. “Certainly was,” he says sadly.

Eve laughs and cuffs his head as she whizzes by him to score. “We can always go as a four, dumbass.”

* * *

“Why do you want me to wait by the Ravenclaw tower? That is the only place I'm _not_ picking dates up from,” James says, confused, as Bill propels him in that direction.

The Hufflepuff laughs. “Like you could get three dates. Just go, please?”

James throws up his hands and sets off up the stairs. “Fine, fine.”

He leans against the wall by the door, feeling overdressed in his tux and midnight black robes as the younger kids surge up and down the stairs in waves. He gets a fair few appreciative stares, but is also fairly sure that Bill didn't send him here to get an ego boost.

James is about to give up and go when a throat clears behind him. He spins.

Q is standing on the stairs in shades of blue. He's clearly made an effort to tame his curls, although the success was negligible, but he's never looked more handsome and James’ brain goes a bit blank. “Hello, James.” Q is blushing lightly and James collects himself enough to offer an arm.

“So you are coming to the ball with me?”

Q rolls his eyes. “Well, you’d better not retract your offer now.”

* * *

Eve looks stunning in a golden 50s tea dress and Bill and Gareth look exceptionally proud to be associated with the most beautiful lady in the room, in grey and black robes respectively.

James pulls his date over to them and they beam. “Good to see you both made it,” Bill grins.

Q huffs. “I'm still not dancing.”

“Just one,” Eve says, dragging her partners to the dance floor. Bill snags Q’s wrist on the way past and they form a circle, spinning and laughing to whatever is playing. Their impression of a whirling dervish clears some space and attracts laughs and cheers, but Q couldn't care less about the attention, clinging to Bill and James with all his strength.

Eventually the song ends and centripetal force throws them apart, spinning Q into James’ arms. The Gryffindor smells of wood fires, broomstick polish and pine. Q presses a bit closer against his chest.

“Having fun yet?” James rumbles, swaying them to the rhythm of the music.

Q hums. “I'll let you know.”

“Not an outright no, even if you are a sweaty, dancing teenager.”

He laughs. “So are you.”

James’ arms tighten around his waist. “Are you complaining?”

Q shakes his head, ducking it to hide his smile. “Not really.”

“Not really?” James shakes his head seriously. “No, that won't do. I will only accept not at all-”

Q surges up and kisses him through a smile. “Not at all, all right?” he grins. “Now shut up and kiss me.”

* * *

“Told you they'd have fun,” Eve says, spinning them so Bill can look over her shoulder.

He pulls a face. “Gross. This is a public place.”

Eve laughs. “This has all been a lesson in learning the consequences of your actions, Bill.”

He rolls his eyes, laughing. The song ends, but Q and James don't notice.

Eve pulls back out of the ballroom hold. “Come on then you, I was promised a tango performance from you and Gareth.”

Gareth puts his own drink down and hands a glass to Eve. “Well,” he smiles, holding out a hand to Bill, “we had better not disappoint, then.”


End file.
